wrydivinity

[wrydivinity]

「hub post」

—— listen, I know I’m egregiously shy BUT if anyone wants to plot, chat or just brainrot about muses and media, feel free to add me on discord? >> dsc: tazerconfetti

im tryin here XD

[wrydivinity]

"I think Dolly Parton counts as non-secular music, personally. I'm not.. I'm definitely not biased or anything." (Oh, he is. The deep south will always run wildly in his core, and in secret? He's a DollyWood season pass holder. Nobody needs to know.)

[wrydivinity]

ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: Handlebars • Flobots • Fight With Tools ────────⚪──────── ◄◄⠀▐▐ ⠀►► 1:50 / 3:27 ───○ 🔊⠀ ᴴᴰ ⚙ ❐ ⮎1⮌ " I can make anybody go to prison Just because I don't like 'em And I can do anything with no permission I have it all under my command "

[wrydivinity]

[wrydivinity]

Montana’s sweltering heat and unforgiving wilderness in the dead of summer was not for the weak. In fact, it was a hardener- a bitter and maliciously cunning agent that checks the tenacity of anyone who dared to threaten its untamed glory. The Divine Creator at it’s cruelest- Joesph found it to be almost serendipitous with himself, in some thinly-veiled way to attempt at self reflection. He too, was bitter and malicious to anyone who dared to threaten the state of his mission. Much like the Divine Creator, the Voice itself, Joseph found that staying his flock with a firm hand was appropriate. Needed, even. Some of these souls were far more wayward than himself- but the kinship of their journey was enough for him to welcome them in with open arms. Eden’s Gate, this project.. It was everything to him. In some sick way, Joseph found comfort in his place of being needed and wanted in such a fashion- it sickened him. May the Creator show him mercy, for his repentance falls short.

Even for it being so early, it was almost unbearably hot. The yellow tint from his aviator glasses made an amused chuckle rumble from his chest and out his lips, hands rested against the banister that ran along the second story balcony of the undisclosed cabin- a small refuge in which he found peace- if that was even possible in these trying times. Baitedly, he releases a shaky breath and allows his head to hang down; shoulders arching and spine dipping dramatically with a long stretch and a yawn. “It’s hot.” It was a statement to nobody but himself, noting the stray bead of sweat creeping down his brow and trailing down the bridge of his nose… He wipes it away absently, flicking the nuisance away.

“God is feeling variably peckish today, I would say… Judging by the heat, he’s giving us all a small glimpse into our futures. Ha…”

Decidedly, it was time to leave the cabin, and make headway for the day. It was a short process- grooming, changing- all part of a routine that he dared not break. Joseph was a very particular man; he liked things a certain way, and refused to change them or the way he did them. Even down to what oil he used to barrier his skin, it was all very meticulous. He wanted to smell like the warm sand in Jerusalem; like the frankincense and myrrh gifted to the christ child himself on his birth. Joseph was beyond particular. It could have dwindled down to straight narcicism, but the power he held was enough of a deterrant within the walls to keep those accusations at bay. Rounding up the caravan, it was time to set off towards the main compound and see what was happening— it had been several days of Joseph hiding out in his reclusive hideout, several days of fasting and prayer and mania induced fever dreams. A very long week of self-reflection and begging and crying and screaming out to the unforgiving void for guidance- hands balled into fists and beating the earth with all his fury- a beguiled prayer from a wavering prophet. He simply now wanted to check the mundane and resume his ‘normal’ life.

Joseph was used to the heat. Georgia was no place for a weak man either- the blistering sun and swampy conditions would easily snuff the weakest of a herd of cattle in a matter of hours, let alone what he had seen it do to humans living in subpar conditions during heat waves when he was just a child.

The memory burns just as harshly as the sun above him; the father and mother and children were sprawled out in the living room and the flies attacked at every surface of their bodies- stricken to dots and bloat on the mossy green carpet. He remembered how Jacob’s firm hand on the back of his neck guided him out of the doorway and back onto the sidewalk- how far away Jacob sounded when telling him to stay here- John’s tiny and sweaty and sticky hand snagging into his own and that tear-stained face staring back at him….

May the good Lord protect and guide these unfortunate souls seeking refuge from the heat. May His wrath send the nonbelievers into a dwindling existance and may He sheppard the righteous of heart and mind and soul to his garden- to Eden’s Gate. Joseph could only pray the outcome would be so simple.

[wrydivinity]

[wrydivinity]

[wrydivinity]

[wrydivinity]

Far Cry 5: Inside Eden’s Gate

[wrydivinity]

[wrydivinity]

“ Into whatever city or village you enter, find out who in it is worthy; and stay there until you go on. As you enter into the household, greet it. If the household is worthy, let your peace come on it, but if it isn't worthy, let your peace return to you. Whoever doesn't receive you, nor hear your words, as you go out of that house or that city, shake off the dust from your feet.” — Matt. 10:11-14

[wrydivinity]

Far Cry 5 Scenery 82/???

[wrydivinity]

Montana’s sweltering heat and unforgiving wilderness in the dead of summer was not for the weak. In fact, it was a hardener- a bitter and maliciously cunning agent that checks the tenacity of anyone who dared to threaten its untamed glory. The Divine Creator at it’s cruelest- Joesph found it to be almost serendipitous with himself, in some thinly-veiled way to attempt at self reflection. He too, was bitter and malicious to anyone who dared to threaten the state of his mission. Much like the Divine Creator, the Voice itself, Joseph found that staying his flock with a firm hand was appropriate. Needed, even. Some of these souls were far more wayward than himself- but the kinship of their journey was enough for him to welcome them in with open arms. Eden’s Gate, this project.. It was everything to him. In some sick way, Joseph found comfort in his place of being needed and wanted in such a fashion- it sickened him. May the Creator show him mercy, for his repentance falls short.

Even for it being so early, it was almost unbearably hot. The yellow tint from his aviator glasses made an amused chuckle rumble from his chest and out his lips, hands rested against the banister that ran along the second story balcony of the undisclosed cabin- a small refuge in which he found peace- if that was even possible in these trying times. Baitedly, he releases a shaky breath and allows his head to hang down; shoulders arching and spine dipping dramatically with a long stretch and a yawn. “It’s hot.” It was a statement to nobody but himself, noting the stray bead of sweat creeping down his brow and trailing down the bridge of his nose… He wipes it away absently, flicking the nuisance away.

“God is feeling variably peckish today, I would say… Judging by the heat, he’s giving us all a small glimpse into our futures. Ha…”

Decidedly, it was time to leave the cabin, and make headway for the day. It was a short process- grooming, changing- all part of a routine that he dared not break. Joseph was a very particular man; he liked things a certain way, and refused to change them or the way he did them. Even down to what oil he used to barrier his skin, it was all very meticulous. He wanted to smell like the warm sand in Jerusalem; like the frankincense and myrrh gifted to the christ child himself on his birth. Joseph was beyond particular. It could have dwindled down to straight narcicism, but the power he held was enough of a deterrant within the walls to keep those accusations at bay. Rounding up the caravan, it was time to set off towards the main compound and see what was happening— it had been several days of Joseph hiding out in his reclusive hideout, several days of fasting and prayer and mania induced fever dreams. A very long week of self-reflection and begging and crying and screaming out to the unforgiving void for guidance- hands balled into fists and beating the earth with all his fury- a beguiled prayer from a wavering prophet. He simply now wanted to check the mundane and resume his ‘normal’ life.

Joseph was used to the heat. Georgia was no place for a weak man either- the blistering sun and swampy conditions would easily snuff the weakest of a herd of cattle in a matter of hours, let alone what he had seen it do to humans living in subpar conditions during heat waves when he was just a child.

The memory burns just as harshly as the sun above him; the father and mother and children were sprawled out in the living room and the flies attacked at every surface of their bodies- stricken to dots and bloat on the mossy green carpet. He remembered how Jacob’s firm hand on the back of his neck guided him out of the doorway and back onto the sidewalk- how far away Jacob sounded when telling him to stay here- John’s tiny and sweaty and sticky hand snagging into his own and that tear-stained face staring back at him….

May the good Lord protect and guide these unfortunate souls seeking refuge from the heat. May His wrath send the nonbelievers into a dwindling existance and may He sheppard the righteous of heart and mind and soul to his garden- to Eden’s Gate. Joseph could only pray the outcome would be so simple.

[wrydivinity]

Turkey Mountain Road NE, Rome, Georgia.

[wrydivinity]

[wrydivinity]